The March of the Spades
by thisisforyou
Summary: The March had begun again, but this time Hatter thought something was different. Parody.


**Sheer boredom. But I think I'm onto something here. Parody, I suppose, adventure. Wasn't thinking about including magic in too much capacity. Any suggestions welcome but updates not likely to happen soon, although they will happen eventually. Please forgive any typos, my keyboard is old and therefore sticky. Enjoy!**

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Hatter flopped down beside his brother on top of Diamond Hill without looking at him and took off his hat. He looked intently at it for a moment as though expecting something to rise out of it, but when nothing did, he sighed and jammed it unceremoniously back on his head without regard to the dirty mouse-brown hair under it sticking up in all directions. He fiddled with a hole in his filthy trousers, fighting the awkwardness between the two.

When the other boy didn't speak, he gave up and looked down on the gypsy caravans and bright scarves that littered the valley between the two hills, and drifted away from the yells and screams of the protest below.

Hatter was a dreamer. He didn't understand how his brother stood the world the way it was without ever wishing for anything else; never dreaming of what it would be like to be a Club guard or a Diamond warrior; never dreaming of marrying a princess or discovering a cure for the shivers. He glanced at him now, his large front teeth resting comfortably over his bottom lip. A wave of remorse washed over him for the petty arguments that always drove the two apart.

"Hare? I'm sorry." Hatter's twin turned.

"I know," March the Hare replied in a small voice. "I'm sorry too."

Hatter turned back to the view of the valley and the hundreds of Spades screaming at the tops of their voices. "Look at them," he told Hare softly.

Hare grunted. "You look." Hatter did; he gazed at them until he felt his eyes would burst into flames.

"Wouldn't it be grand, Hare?" he said dreamily. Hare frowned. "To have _purpose_? To have something that _needs_ to be done, and to be able to do it? To know that you're a part of something huge, something that could _change_ something?"

Hare turned his dull brown eyes in Hatter's direction. "The March of the Spades has happened every year for as long as anyone can remember. Nothing's ever changed, Hatt. And we _have_ something to do."

Hatter snorted derisively. "Yeah. Watch everyone else do things. We don't even _have_ to do that. We could sleep all day if we wanted to."

"I tried that, but you kept waking me up," Hare replied mildly. "It's called freedom, Hatter. Most people would kill for it – those people down there, that's what they're marching for. And you – you have it, and you don't want it. What's so bad about what we've got? The Spades don't _have_ to hold up their stupid signs."

Freedom versus duty. It was one of their favorite arguments, though Hatter noticed Hare didn't seem to be too interested today. "They feel like they do. They know what's right and they're prepared to fight for it. Isn't that glorious?"

"But they _never_ change anything. What's the point? They might as well stay at home, warm and dry."He pulled his tatty waistcoat around him as if to illustrate his point. "What do they have to protest about anyway? At least they all _have_ homes."

Hatter shrugged. Hare didn't understand about duty or justice. It was the knowledge that they were fighting for what was right that mattered. He stood up. "Where are you going?" his brother asked warily. Hatter smiled.

"Down there. To answer your question. Come on."

* * *

Up close, the screams of the protesters were almost deafening. Hatter held out a hand to stop Hare when only the last line of trees separated them from the Spades. Hare raised his eyebrows.

"Can't hear anything from here. We'd have been better back at the top. Come on, Hatt. Let's go back."

Hatter ignored him. He reached up and took off his hat again. From the lining of the crown, he drew a small, curved hunting-knife. "Just in case," he told his brother, and took a step forward. Hare grabbed his shirt and held him back.

"Hatt, come on. Just listen from here. What if they find out you're not a Spade?"

"They'll think I'm a Heart," Hatter replied easily. "I'm fine, Hare, honest. You wait here if you want."

"Wait," Hare pleaded, grabbing Hatter's shirt again as though to hold him in place. "Hearts don't wear hats. Spades wear shoes." Hatter glanced ruefully at his hardened bare feet. "At least leave the hat behind."

Hatter shook his head and firmly squashed the felt topper back in place. "Nobody looks at your feet, Hare. See you soon." He left his twin pale-faced and walked confidently into the throng, falling into the step of the March immediately.

Sometimes Hatter wished he didn't have Hare. It wasn't that he was stupid or incapable in any way of surviving without Hatter's help. He rarely asked for assistance and it was rarely offered. They were just different, and that caused arguments; Hare wanted to sleep when Hatter was wide awake; Hatter was dreaming when Hare was hungry; Hatter wanted more when Hare knew there _was_ nothing more. On the rare occasion they were apart, Hatter felt intoxicatingly free, yet when they met again he was always happy to see the other boy.

Hatter positioned himself neatly between a slim woman carrying a baby in one arm and a sign reading _The Spade Is Mightier Than The Cub_ in the other and a haggard-looking man with a steely glint in his eye carrying one end of a banner that Hatter couldn't read, and instantly blended into the crowd. Neither man nor woman gave Hatter more than a brief glance as they walked. He smiled. He'd always been good at blending in, even though he was so different.

Hatter wasn't a Heart or a Spade. He wasn't even a Club and he sure wasn't a Diamond to sit languidly in a glass castle. He must be one of _something_, everyone was. He just didn't know what. He and Hare had hid out in the Diamond Hills for their whole lives, outlawed for being nothing and having no-one since their father died nine years ago, when the two were ten.

Hatter had nothing but the clothes on his back and the hat on his head. Hare had even less. Sometimes he loved his life, waking with the world when the sun rose and sleeping with it when it set. Other times its futility and utter pointlessness drove him to insanity. Hare was determined to like it, to live in the moment and make the most of each day. But Hatter saw things like the March of the Spades and knew there was more; saw people with purpose, that feverish light in their eyes, and wanted it for himself.

He walked among the Spades with his brilliant amber eyes alight and a wild smile spreading across his face. If he'd thought about it at the time, he may have thought he only looked so comfortable because he _did_ feel exactly what the hundreds of protesters felt: excitement, wild elation, and justice.

It felt good.

Hatter took a cautious step closer to the man on his left. "When did you join the March?" he asked companionably.

"Been up since midnight," the man replied. "Right from the beginning. You?"

"Joined before the Hills," Hatter said smoothly. "Wouldn't miss it for my life."

The man grunted in a way that apparently indicated amusement. "That's almost what some of us had to pay. Looks like the Diamonds have taken an interest in us this year."

"How so?" asked Hatter, adopting a shocked face. "There was nothing different when I joined."

"You march last year?" the man asked, throwing a sideways glance at Hatter.

"No. Wish I had, though." The man grunted again.

"'Bout fifty Clubs waiting for us as we left town. Tried to beat us into submission. Dav here," he waved an arm at a man marching steadily with the middle of the banner, "showed 'em that the Spade is mightier than the Club after all." He dipped his head slightly as the woman with the sign glanced at them. "They backed off all right after that."

"I wonder why they want to get involved all of a sudden?" Hatter probed innocently. The wiry man shrugged.

"Maybe they've just had enough. Maybe things are changing. Maybe this is the year we're finally going to get through to the bastards." His eyes seemed to brighten visibly, the irises swirling hypnotically until Hatter was mesmerized. "Maybe we've done it. And this year! When I was there to see it! What a tale that'll be to tell the grandkids one day." He turned to Hatter sharply.

"You have kids?" he asked, in a way that gave Hatter the horrible feeling that he was being interrogated. He shook his head quickly. "Wife?" Another head-shake. "No? Where you from?"

"Dodgton," Hatter replied, cursing inwardly as the man looked him up and down.

"Where are your shoes?"

Hatter looked at his feet as though he'd only just realized they were bare. "They broke yesterday. Haven't been able to get new ones." He almost held his breath as he waited for the man's response.

"Wow," he said. "You must really have it bad. Dry season?" Hatter shrugged.

The man shook his head in disgust. "It makes me sick," he said bitterly, "that these Diamonds can sit in their bloody palaces and some of us Spades can't even afford _shoes_. I hate to think how bad the Hearts have it."

Hatter was shaking his head sadly when there was an inhuman scream from somewhere up ahead. Hatter craned his neck to see and almost walked into the person in front of him. Suddenly, the whole crowd shuddered and ground to an abrupt halt.

For the first time in Wonderland history, the March of the Spades had stopped.

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**A/N: So? Review please with any feedback, ideas, suggestions. How can I incorporate Alice etc into this? Does it remid you of other parodies you've read? I can be kind of unoriginal at times. **

**-for you!**


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